A Human Gift
by natalee moon
Summary: Re-telling of the end of Journey's End. The half-human doctor begins to realize what he can now have with Rose.


It hadn't been the first thing to occur to him, upon finding himself human. He supposed it ought to have been but God, there were so many things going on. So many things to repair. The TARDIS, must save the TARDIS.

Realizing he was human only to himself and being, truth be told, a little nauseated by the biology.

Realizing how much Donna there was mixed in.

Realizing the truth about Donna. Pity battling love and love winning over for her.

Bursting in to save the day only to botch it up royal.

The sound of his own voice begging him not to use violence, even when it was needed, deserved, the last option left.

Donna, brilliant Donna saving the day. That burst of pride knowing she found more worth in herself in that moment than she had in her entire life.

That terrible moment of purpose filling him with certainty that he must destroy all of them and stop the violence forever with the ultimate act of violence.

The disappointed look across his own face as he watched himself repeat the past so utterly, confirming his own failing, destroying his own faith, staining forever any hope he might have of there being natural goodness in the world, in himself.

_But this time I saved the people that mattered most!_ he had wanted to shout. _This time I saved them all!_

Watching himself deposit each one to safety, each cargo so precious, each memory of their willingness to die for him cutting him like a blade and making him determined to leave them where they could be only safe, happy, human. Well, except for Jack.

It wasn't until it was just the Tyler's and Donna, and he heard himself say, "Bad Wolf Bay."

He met his own eyes and it was all there in that glance. _You can have it. You can have what I can never have._

Rose. Those things he had never let himself even admit to wanting. That time would stretch out for her to last for him. That somehow their two times would synchronize to a life together. Here it was, the chance for it. Would she take it?

And how would he bear it? Having her and losing her. Giving her up with only the knowledge that she might have a happy, human life, safe, protected, cherished, loved. He felt the incredible peace that afforded him just thinking about it and knew it was enough. Knowing he could love her this way and by doing so, give her the best and the safest life, protected from and by himself.

Hadn't he channeled away all that energy into the hand just to keep this same face just for her? He had created his own means of having and giving what he wanted most by the impulse of a moment. Wait—did this mean Jack Harkness was inadvertently responsible for giving him what he wanted most? He hoped Jack never realized it. God, it would be insufferable if he did.

Then on the beach where words worked too poorly to make her understand. Where Donna put it to him to make the offer and he found himself remarkably ready for it. Rose! He could love her. Had anything in the universe ever been so incredible as this?

And a part of him must walk way to have it. Must leave her to let her be held by him. This penance marks it as somehow truly attainable. Always his wants have come at insurmountable costs but this one, this one he can bear. There's just enough mercy and just enough knowing he's done the right thing.

And so he tells her. One heart. One life. Together. If she wants to.

Rose, always calculating in her human way, like an alien version of his own frantic thought patterns. She stopped short. Time stopped for her, slowed down and met this now human pace. Just for a moment. She looked at him, really looked. One hand over that heart, considering, imagining it, tasting it without tasting. Over her shoulder he catches himself smiling. He has never given anything that felt this good before. And he never dreamed that giving her up could bring him any happiness. But it does and the memory of it always will.

The universe can't believe him a total failure if after all his time-crossing and meddling and inadvertent violence he finds himself capable of this and capable of having it.

Then she's clever Rose again. She's already worked it out. She already knows what will happen.

So she gives voice to her sorrow and tells the truth. It's not the same. It's different. There is something a little wrong with it. She'll miss him, even by having him at last. How is that possible?

Then she pulls them together and makes them say it. He exchanges a look with himself. This is the moment but he already knew that, is already wiser than the self that will walk away.

He is ready to say it and she is ready to let him see what she is taking before he walks away. It's the closest he will ever come to having it and it is bittersweet to watch her kiss him. He walks away and all possible doors close behind him.

She lets herself stumble after him, not with regret but because there will always be a wildness in the connection. It will always pull her in two directions. They have each sacrificed to have this. They have each given the other peace and the cost is a little sliver in the heart that will never change, will only remind with affectionate throbs of agony that they are always a little together and always a little apart.

Then she is back at his side and he has forgotten that he was a little horrified to be human, to be part-Donna, to realize he was leaving the TARDIS forever. He is holding something so impossible it blinds him and burns away everything that ever hid the love that has always been there.

She catches it and gives him a generous smile, that same wildness promising he will have adventures undreamt of just by touching her. Just by existing near her. Just by spending the rest of his time, in time with hers.


End file.
